


Carry on my Wayward Son

by planetarySwordsman



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Sadstuck, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetarySwordsman/pseuds/planetarySwordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carry on my wayward son,<br/>There'll be peace when you are done.<br/>Lay your weary head to rest,<br/>Don't you cry no more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry on my Wayward Son

The winding smoke from the fag in between your fingertips drifts lazily out of the open window. You can hear your younger brother puttering about aimlessly in his bedroom, as he is wont to do. You're not doing much of anything, either; it's a cold winter's night and you're tired. If you told Dirk about your perpetual exhaustion, he would laugh and tell you to go the fuck to sleep- so you don't. It's been years since you've felt fully rested, since your dreams have been free of terrors that should not be known to the world.   
You've made careful inquiries to your closest (only) friends, but you can tell by their responses that you're not meant to remember anything- and yet, you can feel an irresistible pull in the depths of your mind. There's something that you must do to complete the cycle of the scratch, you're sure of it, but you can't figure out what it is you're meant to do. You've talked to Rose about it, made veiled and carefully shielded attempts at actual conversation, but you have nothing to show for all your hypothetical back and forth. But you do not make a move to do anything. Knights cannot act alone; they need someone to give them advice, suggestions, orders. Getting no help from your Seer, you turned to your Witch.   
Aside from generally comforting words, Jade was no more helpful than Rose. Dismayed, you went to the only other player in your session- the Heir. In a way, you think it fitting.   
The Heir is the only one with absolute control over the Knight; it's unusually poetic for the game, but you'll accept it. With John, there had never been a need for a façade or a gentle segue into the topic at hand, and that carried over into the fateful conversation. You had given him a very abridged account of a game that you had once played together, a game which destroyed universes that new ones might be born. You told him of your own role as the Knight of Time, and all that that role entailed (though you had 'forgotten' to tell him his title. There are some things you'd rather shield him from.). You spoke of all the doomed Daves, and of your time powers. You had asked, with a knot in your throat and fear in your breast, what he thought needed to be done to complete the game. You had asked his honest opinion- and he gave it. John Egbert, Heir of Breath, supreme commander and friendleader of your session, told you that your death would close the final loop. Your body is twenty-six years old, but your soul is so much older; you can feel the weight and wisdom of centuries in every breath you take, and you know in the depths of your heart that he's right.   
So you've prepared for this day- in fact, you've been preparing for this day your whole life. You've said your goodbyes, told Rose and Jade and John that you were going to travel abroad and visit family in Europe. They don't need to be more involved than they already are. You've written out your will, leaving half of your things to Dirk and the other half to Egbert. Your blind lawyer asked if you were sure; you replied honestly. You told her that you wanted the only two people you had ever loved to remember you in some way, and this was the only way you knew. Ever perceptive, Terezi had laid one hand on your shoulder and nodded understandingly at something three inches to your left. With your material possessions sorted, and your goodbyes said to everyone save your brother, you were nearly ready to go. To die.   
So, here you are. Smoking on your sixth floor balcony and looking out at the lights of the city. Tonight is the first clear night in months, you think, noticing that your cigarette has finally burnt out. You can't delay it any longer, you know. You return inside for the last time, walking into Dirk's room and taking off your shades. He's on the computer, doing something with the engineering software you got him. He spins around to look at you, face calm and composed as ever; until you let him see the raw emotion written large on your face. Taking his face in your hands, you kiss him gently on the forehead- you kiss him goodbye, before replacing your shades and your pokerface. It's time.   
You return to your spot on the balcony, feeling oddly calm about the whole thing. Your head is completely clear as you climb up onto the top of the rail separating you and the air. Teetering on your toes for a moment, you whisper one last encouraging line to anyone who may be around to hear. “In my dream,” you say, leaning forward just enough to throw yourself off balance, “I am the star.” You fall, tears in your eyes and a smile on your lips. “It is me.”


End file.
